


The Favor

by Port



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Big cat specialist rivalries, Crack?, F/M, Humor, M/M, So many apologies to the good people of Iowa and Idaho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port/pseuds/Port
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny owes Viv a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to carina84 for her great beta and sharp eye. Comments and crit welcome.

**Prelude: Two Years Ago**

"Hey, Martin," Danny said, sidling up to Martin’s desk and sitting on the corner. "Those phone records panning out?"

Martin looked up from a stack of papers. "Still not done, but so far it’s mainly calls to her therapist. Jack’s interviewing him right now. How about you?"

"Waiting to hear from about ten people." Danny shrugged, indicating he had some time on his hands. He half-grinned, going for a teasing look. "I heard you had a date last night."

Martin looked nonplussed, then amused, then self-contained. "You always listen to office gossip?"

"Nah, usually I start it." That got a short laugh. Danny grinned all the way. "Aren’t you going to give me the details?"

"Nothing to tell."

"What, you didn’t go?"

"Of course I went. It just wasn’t spectacular."

Danny shook his head. "Martin, Martin, Martin. You know if you’re looking for spectacular you’re going to be looking for a long time, my friend. That’s no way to—"

The hand that appeared on Danny’s knee was warm and long-fingered and not Danny’s own. He stared down at it and after a moment followed the line of the arm up to a shoulder and from there up to Martin’s impassive face. 

Martin raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, and Danny realized his jaw was hanging open. 

This was new. Danny’s flirtation with Martin had always been like shadowboxing; his blows never connected. He hardly ever even _imagined_ them connecting, because, face it, Martin held too close to himself to even touch. Why set yourself up for disappointment?

And yet, there was his hand on Danny’s knee, connecting like a Joe Louis roundhouse.

Danny licked his lips. "Then again, spectacular is a good thing to hold out for." He didn’t move his knee, and Martin didn’t move his hand.

"You know where I can find it?" Martin asked.

Danny hesitated, then went for the haymaker. "I may know one or two places you could look."

Martin nodded, and his grip on Danny’s knee loosened, his hand now resting there lightly. He stood up and leaned on the side of the desk by Danny’s hip. Danny watched him intently, saw him lick his lips, his only sign of nervousness. "You think if I looked in my apartment around seven tonight, I might get lucky?"

Danny burst out with a sharp laugh. "I love it when you talk dirty," he teased in a low voice, though he had never heard Martin do any such thing—so far. And that got a blush, Martin’s gaze dropping to his feet. Danny’s grin widened. "Seven tonight, huh?"

"Yes."

"All right. But we might have to find a better word than spectacular. Phenomenal, maybe."

Martin grinned. "I’m flattered."

"I wasn’t talking about you," Danny rejoined. Over at his desk, the phone rang, reminding him of the case they were still working. He bumped shoulders with Martin as he went to get it, but halfway there, he spun around. "Hey, Martin."

"Yeah?"

"This isn’t a rebound thing, is it? Because of your date?" Because it was random and too good to be true.

Martin looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear, though it was a little late for that. "Between you and the date… you’re not the one who’s the rebound."

Trust Martin Fitzgerald to go on a rebound date before even giving Danny the chance to blow him off. It made an odd kind of sense to Danny, who nodded, a smirk slowly settling on his face. And if he walked around with that smirk and an extra bit of pep for the rest of the day, what of it?

~~

"Glad to see you looking so energetic," Jack said to Danny that afternoon. Only three hours till seven, and it looked like the case could withstand the team going home tonight for a rest. Not that rest would be involved until much later, Danny anticipated, trying to focus past his fantasies on what Jack was telling him. "I need you to go to Des Moines now."

Danny blinked. "You need me to go to Idaho?"

"Iowa, actually. It’s the capital city? Our missing person has family there who need to be interviewed in person as soon as possible."

"In Des Moines. Tonight."

"Right away." Jack handed him a folder and turned to go, but Danny stopped him.

"Shouldn’t I take someone with me? Martin maybe. That way we could do good cop, bad cop." And our best to ruin the sheets in our hotel room, Danny mentally added.

Jack frowned. "You don’t need good cop, bad cop. I doubt they’re involved in the disappearance. Just ask them questions about the missing girl."

"Right…." Danny watched Jack walk back toward his office, then ran to catch up with him. "Jack—"

"Look, Danny, I realize Des Moines isn’t on your list of top ten vacation spots, but everyone else already has an assignment."

Danny let his disappointment show on his face. At times, pouting at Jack worked surprisingly well.

Like now. "Okay, if Vivian agrees to switch with you, I’ll allow it. Everyone else needs to stay here."

Danny had rarely experienced such relief. "Thanks, Jack. I appreciate it." He clapped him on the shoulder and turned to scan the office in search of Vivian, almost missing Jack’s mutter of "spoiled rotten."

Not that it mattered. You did what you could with what you had, and Danny intended to do everything in his vast repertoire of kink with Martin tonight, and tomorrow night, and for many, many nights afterward. He finally had his foot in the door with Martin Fitzgerald, and no way was he going to miss this chance by flying to Idaho. Iowa. Whatever.

When he spotted Vivian by a copy machine, Danny grinned and headed over, revving up the charm. He’d probably owe her a favor for this, but how bad could it be?

~~

**The Present**

Danny was frowning at a stack of tax records that morning. A housewife had vanished two days ago, along with part of her wardrobe and other personal belongings. Looked like an open and shut case of abandonment, but the husband wanted to believe otherwise, so they were looking into it. Leads had been scarce. With everything in him, Danny tried not to envy Martin, who was following up on sightings of the woman at a traveling circus out of state. 

But if they had to be apart anyway, why couldn’t Danny be in the field and Martin examining tax records? He hoped Jack appreciated the kind of dedication it took to sort through this stuff.

"Morning, Danny," Jack said, appearing at Danny’s elbow. He paused, appearing awkward. "Look, I really appreciate your doing this for me."

Eerie, Danny thought, raising an eyebrow. "You know it’s no problem, Jack. Don’t worry about it."

Jack nodded, seeming relieved, and went into his office.

A few minutes later, Vivian came in and walked right over to Danny. "We need to talk," she said.

Danny pushed his chair out from the conference table, swinging around to look up at her. Jack’s encouragement had actually helped, but he could still use a break. "Anything you say, Viv. What’s up?"

Vivian sat down against the table. Was it just Danny, or was she trying to use height to her advantage? "You remember two years ago, when I went to Idaho for you?"

"Iowa."

"I said Iowa," Vivian said, and Danny let it go. "I’m sure you remember what happened there."

Danny grinned. "I remember you got held up by Homeland Security at the Des Moines airport coming back."

Vivian nodded. "I had to stay in Des Moines for an extra day—in detention."

Danny nodded slowly, beginning to see where she was going with this, but instinctively loathe to get there. "If I remember right, you had a violent altercation with another passenger at the boarding gate. What was that over again?"

"Self-defense." Upon arriving home and telling her coworkers the whole story, Vivian had been appalled at their reaction (which had been, to say the least, mirthful) and refused to do more than speak around the subject forever afterward.

Despite a bad feeling about where this would lead (or perhaps because of it) Danny decided to be bold. "No, no. Before that. I think you got mixed up and called the state of Iowa by another state’s name."

"We were making small talk in line before boarding the plane," Vivian bit out. "I complimented the man’s home state. By name. Next thing I knew, he was coming at me, my jujitsu training kicked in, and he was down on the floor."

Danny covered his mouth with a hand, looking anywhere but at Viv. "Who knew they were so touchy about the Iowa-Idaho name thing."

"Learn something new every day," Vivian said. "Which brings us to now, and how you’re making that up to me."

Danny splayed his hands above his head, reclining in his seat. "I owe you a big favor, Viv. Ask and it’s yours."

"Take Jack into your home," Viv said.

What? "Excuse me?"

Vivian sighed. "Since his divorce last month, Jack’s been living in a motel. Well, after lawyers’ fees, the first alimony payment, his older daughter getting braces and his car needing a thousand-dollar tune-up, he can no longer afford to live there. Or anywhere, really."

Danny felt perplexed. "So he called you and asked if he could move in with _me_?" That made no sense at all.

"Actually, he called and asked if he could move in with me. For the next month."

Whoa. Viv’s house wasn’t big enough for—wait a minute! "So you what? Referred him to me? Viv!"

Viv went on in a patient, intractable tone. "I told him you had an extra room at your place and that I would ask you if you wouldn’t mind."

"Well, I d—"

"Then I called him back five minutes later and told him you didn’t mind at all."

"But I do mind! Viv!"

"Danny, this is my favor. If you don’t accept it, there will be consequences."

Consequences worse than a month of living with Jack? Danny tried to think of anything that could possibly fit that description. He failed. But Viv looked certain, even as though she had something already in mind.

Danny did not want to know what that could be.

Just then, Jack came out of his office and approached them. "Danny, I wanted to let you know I put most of my stuff in storage, so I’ll only be bringing in two suitcases or so. Just to put your mind at ease. I’m not going to take over or anything."

Danny glanced at Viv, who mouthed, "Idaho."

And really, what choice did he have? He smiled wanly at Jack, wondering how he was ever going to explain to Martin that their boss was now living in their apartment.

~~

After work, Danny sat for an hour in the front seat of his car, cell phone in hand, trying to think of a way to start this conversation with Martin. He still hadn’t connected the call.

"You know how you were worried that I’d be lonely while you’re away?" he tried. "Well, now I’m not."

Come to think of it, though, Martin hadn’t sounded too sorry that Danny would be lonely.

"Okay, how’s this?" Danny said to the empty car. "Remember when you mentioned our place needed something to liven it up? Like a houseplant or something?"

The only thing being the crucial differences between Jack and a houseplant. A fern wouldn’t care what it heard through the walls in the middle of the night. Neither would it be likely to finish off the last of the milk or eggs. Or fire you.

"All right. Remember our first night together, in your old apartment? When we did the thing with the…. Yeah." Oh, yeah. He got sweaty just thinking about it. "Okay, Martin, you’re not gonna believe this, but Viv is the one who made that possible. Yes, Viv. So we both owe her big. How big, you ask? Well, get this…."

Surely, put that way, Martin couldn’t help but understand about Jack. Danny would have understood, in the same position, right? Right! All he had to do was call Martin, have a good chat all about how much Danny missed him, and drop in the explanation about Jack as a by-the-way at the end. 

It couldn’t fail.

Right.

So, why hadn’t he called yet?

He sat there a minute longer in thought. Something was bothering him, something he’d forgotten to do….

Suddenly, his cell rang. "Taylor."

"Danny, it’s Jack."

This was a first. Danny had seldom been relieved to hear Jack’s voice in place of Martin’s. "Hey, Jack. What’s up?"

"I’m at your apartment. Where are you?"

Oh, yeah. He _had_ forgotten something.

"Uh, be right there, Jack." And since one didn’t leave one’s boss standing outside one’s apartment building in the dark for any longer than necessary, Danny turned on his car and left the garage. And since one didn’t drive in New York City with a cell phone in one hand and an impossible conversation on both, Danny put off calling Martin.

~~

The first thing about living together was cleanliness. The place had to be kept nice-looking, or else Martin got twitchy. Fortunately, even the obsessive-compulsive measures Martin took to upkeep the apartment were not a big deal to Danny, who considered them a small price to pay for being with Martin. Hardly a price at all.

That said, without Martin around, Danny let the place go a little. He would have cleaned up had he known company would be over, and after a year-and-a-half living with Martin, even he felt self-conscious about the mess he’d left out for Jack to see.

When he opened the door and led Jack down the entry hall into the main living area, his worries were confirmed, and he felt so embarrassed he hardly noticed Jack’s appraising whistle.

"You’d never know Martin lives here, would you?" Jack said.

Danny shrugged, annoyed at himself. He’d left the dishes from last night’s dinner on a side table, damn him! And his dress socks lay on the floor beneath the coffee table. Martin would be appalled if he saw that.

"You always keep it so clean in here, or did I come on a good day?" Jack asked, setting his suitcases down and looking around. "New carpet?"

"What? No, we just shampoo it often," Danny said. He and Martin had long since worked out a routine schedule for cleaning duties. Once Danny trained himself not to leave stuff lying around, it worked out great.

He showed Jack to the guestroom, then gave him a quick tour. Indicating the master bedroom with an offhand wave, he led the way to the hall bathroom. There, he showed Jack an empty drawer he should use to keep toiletries and shaving stuff. "It’s important to keep the countertop clear," he explained. Martin hated clutter. 

If  Jack nodded a bit too solemnly, Danny ignored it.

From there, he showed Jack the kitchen and pointed out where everything was kept in the shelves, pantries and drawers. Five minutes into their new living arrangements, and it was all very civilized. Danny thought maybe this would work out.

"Make yourself at home, Jack. Nuestra casa es tu casa. I’m going to start dinner."

"Thanks, Danny," Jack said. "What are you making?"

"Pasta okay?"

"Sounds great. I’ll wash dishes when we’re done."

It was all so domestic that Danny had a sudden longing for Martin—who must have had a similar yearning because he chose that moment to call Danny’s cell. 

"Hey there, sexy," Danny said into the phone. And reddened when he realized Jack was still in the room with him. Looking at him and trying not to laugh.

"I’ll just go unpack," Jack said, and left. Danny put a hand to his temple and tuned back in to Martin.

"I’m sorry, got distracted. What did you say?"

"I asked if you’re still at work. I thought I heard Jack’s voice in the background."

"No, I’m at home. You must be imagining things." 

"Right." Martin paused. "I’m imagining a lot of things on this trip," he said in that sly voice Danny had never encountered before the night two years ago when he switched assignments with Vivian.

Danny grinned, skin heating up again. "I’ve been imagining a few things myself."

"Oh, yeah? What page?"

"You remember page 172?"

"The inverted flamingo position?" Martin sounded breathless.

"That’s the one." For his birthday last year, Martin had given Danny "The Kama Sutra for Male Couples." It was a really good book.

"I miss you, Danny."

"You know I miss you too," Danny said. "Come back home so I can have my way with you."

At that moment, Danny heard the tap running in the sink. He spun around to see Jack filling a glass with water. "Sorry," Jack mouthed, not quite meeting Danny’s eyes before beating a hasty retreat from the kitchen.

"Danny? You still there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. What did you say?"

"I said I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. We can make up for lost time after work."

With Jack here? Danny grimaced, trying to work out the logistics of a romantic evening at home with Martin _and_ Jack.

"Say, how about I take you out to dinner?" Danny suggested. "That place in SoHo we went for New Year’s sound good?"

"That’s a little fancy, isn’t it?"

It sure was. But Danny figured he’d owe Martin much more than an expensive meal before tomorrow was over. Wherever they went for dinner, they’d still be coming home to Jack.

Besides, if he broke the news to him over dessert in a nice place, Martin might not kill him. Too many witnesses.

When he finished chatting with Martin, Danny put the pasta on to cook and prepared some bread as a side dish. Cooking always relaxed him, so he was able to put aside his anxiety and look forward to a quiet night at home, even if it was with the wrong guy. 

When he strolled out of the kitchen, he passed Jack in the living room on his way to the master bedroom. Jack had football on the TV and was idly flipping through a book. They nodded to each other as if the overheard bits of phone conversation had never taken place, and Danny relaxed even more.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

He changed out of his suit into casuals and went back to check on the food. The pasta wasn’t quite ready, but he took the bread out of the oven to let it cool. Then he wandered back out to the living room and sat in the Ottoman. "What’re you reading?" he asked Jack during a commercial.

Jack looked startled. "Actually, it’s one of your books. I found it on my bedside table."

"In the guestroom?" Danny tried to remember what a book would be doing in there. He and Martin left that space empty. In fact, the last time they had been in there was weeks ago, when they had needed the sturdier bed frame for the position on page 234 of the….

No.

Oh, no.

He heard a high, strangled voice that couldn’t be his own ask, "Jack, is that…?"

Jack had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I was going to bring it out here so you could find it again. But I sort of… started flipping through it. And then I started reading the notes you made in the margins..."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t happening.

"…and I started to think that some of this could be modified for straight couples…"

Danny covered his face with his hands. It was! It was!

"…and I couldn’t quite put it down after that."

Danny lowered his hands, opened his eyes and stared at Jack. Wordlessly, Jack handed over the book, and Danny decided to never mention this incident to Martin.

~~

Samantha had noticed Jack giving her the eye for almost a month. It was the kind of eye that slanted at you as if in consideration, then slanted away as soon as it caught your own eye looking back. She knew it well from the time they had dated, but Jack had put it away once they’d stopped. She had to admit he was good at not mixing signals. So why had he trotted out the eye again? What had changed?

Maybe he knew she was desperate. She hadn’t had a date in over two months. And it wasn’t because she still missed him terribly—she simply didn’t feel like meeting other men. That was all. Who needed men?

Well, Danny, for one. She had always known that was the case and only ever had a problem with it when he snatched up the most eligible bachelor in the building (not counting Larry the janitor, a svelte young man whose federal wages probably trumped her own). And she couldn’t even blame Danny for taking Martin out of the race; she’d have snatched him up first if she’d known of competition within her own department. 

Besides, they were so cute together.

Sam had to admit she was happy for them. After all, someone ought to get some mileage out of dating a coworker, and they seemed like a contented couple. But on days like this, she hated to hear about it. Domestic bliss was well and good, but she was dateless, a target for the eye and in impossible love with her boss. Today was so not the day to overhear Danny waxing poetical to Vivian on the joys of living with Martin.

However, given the unenclosed office space, she had no choice.

"How’d it go last night?" Vivian asked Danny.

"Oh, you know," Danny said. "We watched sports, ate dinner and shared pornography. Thank you for asking."

Some things Samantha really didn’t need to know.

"Come on, now," Vivian cajoled. "It couldn’t have been that bad."

"Viv. Read my lips. Nothing could be that bad. And yet, it was. Go figure."

Samantha frowned. Trouble in paradise? Danny never complained about living with Martin; something must be really wrong.

"It’s only a month at the most," Vivian said. "Have you told Martin yet?"

Told Martin? Told him what? Actually, now that she thought about it, she realized Martin was still out of state for the case they were working, looking for leads at a number of circuses. Who had Danny spent the night with?

"How am I supposed to tell him, Viv? He’s going to kill me."

This sounded bad. Was Martin going to be a bachelor again? She wondered if rebound dating was necessarily as unsuccessful as everyone claimed.

"Just tell him I didn’t have room at my place," Viv said. "He’ll understand. Besides, he likes Jack."

"We all like Jack," Danny said. "But we aren’t exactly fighting over the privilege of sharing our homes with him for the next month, are we."

Samantha gasped. Jack needed to live with someone? What happened to his wife? She peeked over her shoulder to watch Danny and Viv, who nodded sagely.

"Point taken. Just try to be patient. He’s probably having a rough time, what with the divorce and all."

Divorce.

Divorce!

Danny shrugged. "I don’t know. He doesn’t look too broken up about it."

The eye. Everything clicked into place for Samantha. She came to a decision right there.

~~

Even though their case broke that afternoon (Martin discovered their missing housewife had fallen in love with a lion tamer and run away to join his circus), Danny didn’t have time to pick up Martin at the airport. He was across town breaking the news to the husband, a tiger specialist at the Bronx Zoo.

"She left me for a lion tamer?" the man repeated. He had become hysterical by now. "How can I show my face at the zoo ever again?"

"Um, there, there," Danny said, hesitantly patting the man on the back. He knew nothing about the politics of zookeepers, but he suspected that lions somehow trumped tigers in their pecking order.

"I wasn’t man enough for her," the husband wept. "I should have never taken her to that circus!"

Danny agreed. But then, he disliked circuses. Something about acrobats disturbed him on a very basic level. On the other hand, he rather liked clowns. As Danny patted the weeping man’s shoulder and thought about the last clown act he’d seen as a kid, his phone rang.

"Taylor," he said.

"Danny, it’s me," said Martin. 

"Lion males are the laziest cats in the jungle," the husband cried brokenly.

"Uh, actually, I thought lions lived in grasslands, not jungles," Danny said.

"Huh? Danny?"

"Sorry, I got distra—"

"Who are you to tell me about jungle cats?" yelled the husband. "I’m the expert here, not you!"

"All right, all right, no big deal," Danny said. "I saw it on one of those National Geographic specials is all."

"You did?" The husband deflated. He stared down at his hands.

"Is everything okay there, Danny?"

"Yeah. Just one second." He turned to the husband. "But I think you’re right. The special showed how the males would just lie around in the sun all day and let the females hunt for their food."

The husband sniffed, apparently willing to be placated. 

"Danny, what’s going on over there?"

Danny patted the man on the shoulder again and said into the phone, "I think this may be a while, Martin. How about we meet at the restaurant? Tell you what, don’t even go home first. I don’t want to wait a second longer to see you than necessary."

Martin chuckled. "You getting romantic on me?"

"Nah, that’s for after dinner." If you let me live that long, Danny thought.

~~

The case being settled, and Danny being saddled with the pitiless job of informing the missing woman’s husband of her whereabouts, Samantha left the office in high spirits. Jack had given her the eye at least twice today, confirming her suspicions that he might actually be available now. For once, Jack had left before her, so she made her way to Danny and Martin’s apartment in search of him.

By the time she got there, her spirits had changed from high to agitated. What if she had read him wrong? What if, in her wishful thinking, she had imagined the eye? What if she was about to embarrass herself both personally and professionally? What if he didn’t want her anymore?

Too late. She had already buzzed their apartment. It never occurred to her she could run away from the stoop, seeing as Martin and Danny lived on the third floor. (Fewer vampires, Martin had explained once, as if that explained anything. Danny had smiled, though.)

"Who’s there?" Jack’s voice sounded tinny over the apartment complex’s speakers.

"It’s me, Jack."

"Martin? What, did you forget your key?"

"No, not Martin. Samantha."

The speakers were quiet for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk to you. Alone."

Jack buzzed the door open. Samantha didn’t hesitate to enter.

~~

Martin was pretty sure Danny was kidding when he said not to even stop at home before meeting him at the restaurant. After dropping off some paperwork at the office (which seemed silly, since nobody on the team was there this late), he went home to change clothes and maybe take a quick shower.

Though weary from flying, he felt pretty good. His assignment had taken him to five circuses in the tri-state area, each one better than the last. He had eaten roasted peanuts and cotton candy, got to see elephants and acrobats and tightrope walkers perform, and had managed to avoid interviewing any clowns. The only way it could have been better was if Danny had come along with him. Maybe a circus would be in town during Danny’s next birthday.

Martin whistled on his way up the stairs, feeling light of heart. He took out his keys and opened the door to his apartment, ready to hurry and prepare for his date.

"Hm," he murmured when he entered. Something seemed off about the place, though he couldn’t say what. A different vibe, maybe. He looked around the entryway for anything new, but found nothing. Curious, he kept quiet as he walked farther in, which allowed him to hear a soft noise come from the living room.

Sounded like rustling fabric. Was Danny home after all?

"Mf. Oh…."

Was that a woman’s moan?

Martin spun around in the entryway, suddenly sure he had somehow entered the wrong apartment. But no, there was the coat rack hung with his and Danny’s sweaters.

Maybe he had imagined the moan. No, no, there it was again, drifting into the entryway from the living room, needy and a little wild.

Now, this was a predicament. What did one do when faced with strangers having sex in one’s home? Martin fingered his gun, unsure if he should go arrest them or give them a little privacy.

Just then, the woman’s voice became recognizable. It was Sam’s. Saying, "Oh, Jack. Oh, Jack."

Martin blinked hard.

No way.

He crept toward the living room and peered around the corner at the couch. Where Jack lay sprawled across a writhing Samantha. In fact, were those Jack’s jeans hanging over the arm of a chair? And Samantha’s blouse laying on the floor? 

Martin swiveled back out of sight, not sure which to be more upset about: his coworkers going at it like teenagers in his own apartment, or the clothing they had left on previously clear surfaces.

To be sure he hadn’t imagined either, he looked again.

And promptly regretted it.

"Jack’s… ass," he gasped in tormented agony, in awe that he hadn’t been struck blind. He kind of wished he had.

"Oh, Jack," Samantha said again, and Martin knew he had to get out of there. Pausing only to mouth a quick prayer, Martin quietly snuck down the hall to his and Danny’s bedroom, where he emptied out his overnight bag and replaced it with fresh clothes. Tiptoeing back down the hall, he noticed the guestroom door ajar and nudged it open.

Huh. 

By then, Samantha was getting even more moany, and Jack could be heard whispering between harsh breaths. Martin escaped from the apartment as if running from a bomb about to go off (except he kept quiet the whole way out and closed the door softly behind himself).

Then he tried to figure out why the wrong pair of Missing Persons Office agents were getting lucky in his and Danny’s apartment. Maybe Danny could explain.

~~

On the way to the restaurant, Martin turned the situation over in his mind, trying to fit the terrible pieces together (Jack’s ass, Samantha’s moans and Jack’s stuff all over the guest room) and erase from memory the images he had been subjected to. 

Was it wrong to be equally upset about the clothing scattered everywhere in the living room? (It made the place look _cluttered_.) And would it be tacky (and a bad career move) to give Jack the bill for having the couch professionally cleaned?

So when he finally arrived at the restaurant, Martin’s pleasure at seeing his partner after so long was dimmed from the realization that Danny had turned their place into a love motel.

~~~

Danny sat at a table for two in the dimly lit bistro, staring morosely at his place setting. He still had no idea how to broach this topic with Martin, and he was annoyed with himself for allowing their reunion to be ruined by a surprise houseguest.

Still, when Martin found his table and sat down across from him, Danny felt himself smile. "Are you a sight for sore eyes," Danny said with honest warmth.

"Sore eyes," Martin repeated, looking shell-shocked. He shook himself and seemed to remember where he was, then smiled back at Danny, tightly. "Yeah. You too."

O-kay. "Everything all right, Martin?"

"Oh, just fine. How did it go with the husband?"

Danny shrugged. "The usual. You know how it is breaking bad news to someone. It takes a little time for the shock to wear off, but I’m sure he’ll be fine." Danny gazed hard at Martin, who raised an eyebrow.

"You think he’ll ever look the same way at the lion pit again?"

"Who needs lions when you’re a tiger specialist?" Danny asked.

"Who indeed," Martin said, obviously losing the thread of conversation, which Danny didn’t have such a great handle on himself. "So, you kept pretty busy these last few days."

Danny’s head shot up. Did Martin know about Jack already? Luckily, a waitress approached before he could answer and asked if they were ready to order.

"This one’s on you, right?" Martin asked Danny.

"Yes. My treat," he said, hoping to butter Martin up.

"Good." Martin turned to the waitress. "We’ll both have the filet mignon, to start."

Oh, yeah. Martin knew about Jack, all right.

~~~

They were halfway through their chocolate soufflé when Danny bit the bullet.

"So, you’ve been home or something? Because I can tell you know about Jack."

"Know what about Jack?" Martin asked, all hawkish innocence. Danny gulped. When Martin got passive-aggressive like this, there could be no favorable outcome. At least not for Danny.

"I’m going to be sleeping on the couch for a while, aren’t I," Danny said, but the look of distaste on Martin’s face made him wonder.

"I wouldn’t make you do that," Martin said, grimacing. "Not till it’s cleaned, anyway."

They each busied themselves in dessert, lost in thought.

"Jack is our… houseguest," Martin ventured at last.

Danny nodded and stared into his soufflé. "Foratleastthenextmonth."

Silence. Then, "That’s going to be a hefty motel bill," Martin said.

"We’re kicking out our boss and sending him to a motel?"

"Danny, do you know of a good way to uninvite your supervisor from your home? Because if you do, now is the time to share."

"You’re being damn pissy about this, Martin."

Martin laughed. 

"Just saying," Danny added. He felt off balance. Arguments like this tended to be foreplay. But having sex anywhere in the vicinity of Jack seemed like a really bad idea. "You said something about a motel?"

"Yes. I’m moving into one until Jack leaves."

"No, you’re not."

"Yes, I am. Already packed my bag."

"What about me?"

"You’re welcome to join me," Martin said primly.

"Thank you very much," Danny shot back. "I mean, what am I supposed to tell Jack when he notices you’re not hanging around at all?"

Martin raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, when he notices _we’re_ not hanging around at all."

"I’m sure you’ll think of something," Martin said. "You’re the one who turned our apartment into the YMCA."

Danny opened his mouth to indict Vivian when the waitress returned and handed him the check. His mouth snapped closed.

~~~

"Thanks for dinner," Martin said as they were leaving.

"For all the good it did," Danny muttered. "Where are you going?"

"Motel 6, near work. Give me a call when you get there and I’ll tell you what room I’m in."

"Maybe we should stay home tonight, give it a try. How bad can it be?"

For some reason, Martin shuddered. 

~~~

Danny drove home. He had told Martin not to wait up in his motel room, that maybe he’d stay in the apartment just to make a point, but they both knew better. Especially after three days apart, it made no sense to waste time. 

Resigned—but not exactly broken up about it—Danny unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside. He’d pack a bag for the weekend, let Jack know they’d both be out for some time, and zip on over to—

"Oh, Jack!"

~~~

The Marriott would have been nicer, Martin decided. But he couldn’t have afforded the bill if he’d stayed there an entire month, and besides, this place looked sanitary enough even for him.

He had already unpacked and turned down the bed, and he was just slipping into a pair of sweats when his cell rang. Danny. Martin sighed in relief.

"Hey. Are you—"

"You could have told me Jack was doing Sam up against the fridge."

Martin blinked and wondered how to wash his brain out with soap. "I so did not need that image, Danny."

"I had to see it, so do you. You knew they were… in the apartment, didn’t you."

"Yes. Though to be fair, I had no idea about the… fridge thing."

"They weren’t going at it when you were there?"

"They were, but they hadn’t gotten farther than the couch by that time."

Silence from the other side of the line. Martin could all but see Danny clawing at his eyes.

"I’m traumatized, Fitz. You do realize that, don’t you?"

"No more than I am. Are you here or what?"

"Give me the room number. We have a lot of unpleasantness to sublimate."

~~~

And they did.

All weekend.

Sometime between skipping from page 192 to 37 (Danny was glad he’d brought the book along; so was Martin, for that matter), they rested long enough to discuss their situation.

"If Jack doesn’t move in with Sam after this, I’m applying for a transfer," Martin said.

"Ditto," Danny said, always a little more boneless and a little less verbose after page 192.

"And you’re telling me Viv is the one responsible?" Martin asked.

"I owed her a favor."

Martin scoffed. "Must have been one hell of a favor."

Danny grinned up at Martin, lazy and easy, and reached up to stroke his face. Martin smiled. "It really was."

**The End.**


End file.
